Dave moves to Canada
by ForeveraCynic
Summary: John is Canadian, mainly because I always thought he sort of suited it, and Dave moves to Canada for a fresh start and starts going to Johns school. Schoolstuck, I guess. Pairing is John and Dave. There will be trolls!(later) I'm going to create something new, unless this already exists, and tell me if it does in reviews; Canadastuck!
1. Chapter 1

**John and Dave but john is Canadian so AU I guess. There will be trolls!(eventually) If anyone does ever read this please tell me if there any grammatical errors. Otherwise whatever, comment, don't. Open for constructive (or not) criticism. If anyone ever does read this :P.**

**Now to stop freaking rambling and (attempt to) write something.**

* * *

Daves P.O.V.

The first thing I notice and quietly grumble to myself about when I get off the plane is the temperature. It must be like 30 degrees out here. Oh right, I'm in Canada now so make that 0, or -1 or whatever the fuck. It's fucking cold out is what I'm trying to say. I don't know why I moved here. I guess I just sort of wanted a fresh start or some shit but really? Why did I choose here? I don't even know why I decided not to move to like California or something; I have plenty of family there. Why fucking Winnipeg? Sure like half my family lives in Canada but why _Winnipeg_?

Still grumbling, I grab my bag off the stupid conveyor belt thing. I check it over and there's nothing missing and nothing broken. Suddenly some asshole pushes me backwards, trying to get to his bag. I lose my balance and fall back onto my hands, not quite managing to keep my ass off the ground. I'm ready to get up and punch the dude but he turns around and I decide it wouldn't be the smartest thing to do. The fucker is about seven feet tall and his chest is about three times the size of mine. He's wearing a red plaid shirt and one of those gay-ass lumberjack hat's. I just glare at him until, to my great surprise and confusion; he bends down and apologizes to me. He notices my expression and remarks;

"You're not from around here, eh?" Offering me his hand.

Eh.

He said fucking "Eh".

I'm in Canada now, that's for fucking damn sure. Within ten minutes of getting of the plain in Canada, the fucking fucktards had confirmed two of the stupidest fucking stereotypes ever.

I roll my eyes behind my aviators and take his hand, brushing myself off as he pulls me off the ground. He shakes my hand before I have a chance to pull it away, telling me his name is John. I just sigh. I nod my head to him and pull away, telling him I see my ride. I'm lying cause the fucking guy is wierding me out. I'm taking the bus to my cousin's place and it isn't leaving for like ten minutes. I run off across the parking lot to the bus stop and stand next to the bench in a position that would prevent anyone from sitting on the end near me, then I put my bag down in the middle just to keep people from sitting there either, even though there's no one around.

When I wake up the next day I'm in my cousin's guest room. I've already enrolled in school here and I'm supposed to be there like, half an hour ago but my phone didn't wake me up. I decide to skip the first day and go back to bed. I eat later in the day and then sleep until morning. I don't see my cousin all day. She works 8PM to 8AM. Bruuutaaal.

I wake up grudgingly at seven thirty cause' my school is like a seven minute walk away. I wear red skinny jeans just slightly lower than I probably should, but they don't have pockets and although I could just loop my thumb through a belt loop I prefer to put one finger in the hem of my pants. I know I should just get new pant's with pockets but these ones are broken in perfectly so they look good and are comfortable enough to wear twenty four- seven. I throw on a white button down shirt but I'm too lazy to do up more than three buttons, and they're all messed up, all in the wrong button holes and shit. I look in the mirror and notice that the expanse of skin I'm showing off at my collar and upper chest is a bit too much for school. I tie a bandana-sized American flag, which I usually keep tied to my bag, around my neck. I remember to slip on my watch and I tie on my white low-cut converse before walking out the door and locking it with the spare key my cousin lent me. I turn around after locking the door and the fucking bright ass snow is almost too much for my only recently opened eyes. I'm more than half way there, using my iPhone's GPS, when I realise something doesn't feel right...

FUUUUUCK. EARTH TO FUCKING DAVE.

I face-palm and groan at myself. My fucking bag. I left it in my room. I run all the way back to the house and go inside quietly. The door isn't locked; my cousin must have gotten home. She doesn't lock her fucking door apparently. I take a minute to mull over this, eventually coming to the conclusion that it was another fucking stupid Canada thing, or my cousin's just stupid. Whatever. I walk quietly because my cousin is sleeping. Maybe these polite mother-fuckers are starting to rub off on me after all. I just sigh and run to my room. I grab my bag and stand at the door. I'm still really fucking tired and its way to bright out. I take a second to lean my head against the door and close my eyes. Then, I sum up all the enthusiasm I can muster, and walk out the door for a second time this morning.

The sun reflecting off the snow feels like it's punching me in the brain. I avert my eyes while squinting and at the same time trying to hold my hand in front of my eyes but I can't seem to get it angled right. If I'm covering the ground the sky is too bright, and vise versa. Then I realise what's wrong. I grab my sunglasses from the front pocket of my back pack and push them clumsily onto my face, desperate to get my eyes covered. I found them in a consignment shop back in Texas, (did I mention I'm from Texas?) and they've been the saving grace of my over-light sensitive eyes ever since. I really love these fuckers. Once I get the sun glasses successfully onto my face I sigh. I sprint the rest of the way to school, for no particular reason besides that I want to be inside ASAP. The trip only takes me about three minutes.

When I reach my school I know something is wrong right away. I should be twenty minutes late but there are people hanging out outside the school... class should be in session right now for at least most of the classes... but judging from the size of the school, about four thousand students, about an eighth of the school is out here. That's five hundred, if you're dumb. I take out my phone and check the time. I see the 0 five first. That makes sense; it should be about nine o five. I look again and realize my mistake- its _eight_ O-five. Shiiit. I walk slowly over to a near-by wall and slump to the ground. I lean my head on my knee and sigh. It's going to be a long fucking first day.

In about ten minutes I'm asleep, but only for about a minute because someone falls on top of me and somehow manages to slam something tough against my knee. I'm about to punch him out when I noticed that the little fucker has hit his head and actually done some damage. He has also apparently broken his glasses, judging from the tiny bits of glass and slightly twisted frames that still cling to his ears. He gasps and attempts a mumbled apology, but before he can complete his sentence he falls backwards onto his ass. He tries to push himself back up again but apparently strains himself too much and falls backwards, exhausted.

What the fuck is up with this kid anyway? I think. I'm just sitting here confused as fuck while all his shenanigans are going down. He's wearing baggy-ass clothes that look way older than he does, which is about fifteen, but regardless you can tell he's skinny as fuck and looks so weak a fuckin' stiff wind would carry him away. I take a minute to look him over while he's half conscious and red-in-the-face panting. He's got black hair that's fuckin' up and all over the place, like he just got out of bed or some shit, which he probably did. His mouth is open a bit, show-casing slightly bucked teeth that are crooked in such a way that his left front tooth is actually in the middle of his mouth and the others are all moved to the side a bit, so his three front teeth stand out. He's holding this little notebook to his chest like it's the shit. It's one of those paper-bound ones that we used in primary school and it's got the front page ripped off and all these funny little doodles and shit on it. He was carrying a black back-pack that is sitting slumped against his now crossed legs. He struggles to compose himself for a bit, then when he finally gets his breath back, apparently from running a fucking marathon or something, he opens his eyes fully and I get a taste of huge baby-blues that I feel like I could get lost in. Wait what; no I didn't think that, fuck you for thinking that I would think that, Jegus. I don't usually go for boys and I definitely don't go for unironic nerdy Canadian hipster trash like this. Plus the asshole just ran right into me. I stare at him for a second and he stares back; then he starts giggling. He stands up with a little difficulty and holds out his hand for me to take.

"John Egbert!" He says smiling meekly, but not without flashing his three teeth. This guy was starting to make me queasy.

I don't take his hand, replying simply

"Dave."

He smiles again appearing slightly less buoyant than he did, then he frowns and brushes himself off awkwardly. I attempt to make him more comfortable by grinning but I'm surprised I don't make him flinch with my bared teeth. They're perfect, straight and totally white but I've never been able to make my lips compliment them accept when I'm frowning. I look like I'm about to bite bitches neck-nuts off when I grin, or more accurately grimace.

He smiles yet again and waves at me. The wave appears to be directed slightly off course though because, and I'm just now realizing this, he can barely see shit in front of his nose. He turns on the spot a couple of times then walks off in an apparently random direction, but I soon see that he has somehow managed eye contact with some people he knows. Then he does something truly baffling. He turns around and gestures for me to come with him. Somehow even without eyesight he managed to deduce that I was a new kid in town; or in this school at least. I decide to temporarily, very temporarily, forget my asshole facade and be logical. I need someone to hang out with. I don't really suit being a loner. And one of the girls he's going to hang out with looks like as much of an ass as I am so I probably won't stand out particularly. Last thing I need is to stand out in my new school. I bite my tongue and walk over to them, reluctantly following the stupid dork. It was going to be a long first week with these dumbasses.

* * *

**Chapter two could probably do with not being read, but it is a sort of an introduction to, and explanation of the personalities I gave the trolls+Rose and Jade. Warning, not all the trolls are in this, I think. Don't remember for sure.**


	2. Sorry!

I'm really very sorry that I've offended you guys but I swear I am completely Canadian, never left the country; I don't even have a passport. Also, I was just using these stereotypes to make the story more interesting. I know I personally have always laughed at stereo types as silly as these and would enjoy reading something that made a mockery of them. I was actually more or less inferring that Dave was just stupid for putting stock into harmless coincidences, though I was not making any sort of underhanded inference that it had anything to do with his coming from the US, just so I don't accidentally offend any Americans with that.

If you really haven't met anyone that says eh or wears a lumberjack shirt, I can assure you it is not an uncommon interjection that people started using after years of so many people mishearing the word "hey". I have met a lot of people who wear lumberjack shirts, which are, to be more specific, heavy, usually flannel button down plaid shirts that are actually not always or probably even usually/often worn by lumberjacks, though don't take it from me as I have never met one nor am I certain whether that is still the correct term for "big guys who cut down trees" anymore.

I exaggerated the size of the Canadian guy because I wanted to make him seem like he was just really intimidating in Dave's eyes. I would think it is not so far-fetched to think that such an ass-holy and mildly dumb guy would misinterpret and project a lot of close-minded stereo-types having just arrived in a new country.

In conclusion, I meant no offence to anyone and I'm sorry for forgetting to point out to the masses, who, very understandably do not always understand the understated inferences made by such subtleties as personal stories that were made to me harmless and humorous. I know that it would be conceited to think it would be so obvious but I tried my very darnedest to, while not making it seem like I was trolling, make this story seem more or less like a joke, or at least something that should not be taken in all forms of seriousness.

3 3 3

I may update this just because I so enjoy writing it and I love posting these things because I get all fan-girly looking at reviews, even if they are negative. I love receiving feedback from random strangers.

Best regards, A fellow proud (though not overly patriotic) Canadian citizen.

I don't know for sure if I have to do this but I've seen a lot of people writing these on fanfictions and I guess I probably should)

Slightly belated disclaimer: I do not own homestuck, any of these characters or anything else in this story. Honest. I don't know who they belong to, or even what things exactly I should be disclaiming. Homestuck (I expect) still belongs to Andrew Hussie, and I seriously doubt I have to disclaim the countries I used.


End file.
